


From Weight Bench to Mailbox

by hobbitdragon



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Background Relationships, Bisexual Male Character, Coming Out, Crush at First Sight, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Love Letters, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, No Homo turns rapidly into Yes Romo, Sharing a Bed, just dudes being bros, just to self but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-07 13:59:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitdragon/pseuds/hobbitdragon
Summary: If you want to read about small-town Soft Bros falling in love and farming together, this is the fic for you





	From Weight Bench to Mailbox

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SkyRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyRose/gifts).



> People who have read certain of my other fics will know exactly who Juan is. (Sorry if you're reading this while it's still in the Anonymous Creator period, this is gonna be a very confusing statement.) For those who don't know who Juan is, all you need to know is that this Farmer is a sweet sad bro who has made some bad choices in the past and is in serious need of a husband. 
> 
> I really struggled to figure out what I was gonna write for this exchange. This is the second fic I started! I got a significant ways (2.5k) into the first one and I like what I wrote, so I might finish it another time. But the first story centered on Shane and veered hard into some very serious topics, and since that was not what was requested, I wrote this instead. I hope people like it!
> 
> This fic also makes brief background use of a couple of my character headcanons: that Haley is plus-sized and Emily is trans. 
> 
>  
> 
> Content warnings: this fic makes brief mentions of past traumas, including Alex's history of child abuse and the implication of past animal abuse. That said, everything upsetting in this fic is only mentioned briefly in a line or two and is not explored with any detail.

“Hey, no homo, but those skull tats really make your pecs pop.”

Juan just managed to suppress his startle response enough not to drop the bar onto his chest and thus crush his ribcage. Slotting it safely back into place above him, Juan sat up, blinking in surprise at the room’s only other occupant.

The handsome young man Juan had seen around town stood shirtless and smiling, eyes fixed on Juan’s chest. Soon enough his gaze slid down Juan’s biceps and over the tats there too.

“Uh, thanks,” Juan replied. He tried not to blush. “We--haven’t talked much? I’m Juan.”

“Yeah, the new guy who moved into Charming Farm a while back, I know who you are.” With a smug grin, he held out his hand. “I’m Alex.”

Reaching out, Juan took the offered handshake and found it firm and dry. His own was sticky with sweat, which made Juan want to disappear.

Alex jerked his chin at Juan, still smiling. “You’re ripped, how come I’ve never seen you in here before?”

“Well, it’s winter,” Juan replied awkwardly, not wanting to be rude in pointing out what should have been obvious. “In spring and fall, the farm keeps me occupied. But not much grows in the winter, so I finally have some free time.” Not really enough to waste here, though, he thought anxiously. The fences were coming apart around the chicken coop and he needed to fix them, he still needed to call around to find a plumber who’d come all the way out from Zuzu City to install some sprinklers, and he had to finish making and canning the apple preserves. He just missed working out, and the sense of safety it had given him in the City.

“Hah, right!” Alex agreed. “No wonder you’re so buff even without a regimen. Farming has to be good for the muscles.”

If Juan’s face hadn’t been red before, it was now. Alex just kept looking at him with such obvious appreciation. The ‘no homo’ could only cover so much, Juan thought desperately. He cast about for a neutral topic of conversation to cover the way his nipples were hardening.

“Do you, uh, have any tats yourself?” That was not very neutral, but at least it wasn’t a comment about how Juan was seated nearly at eye height with Alex’s dick, which he could see the shape of through Alex’s spandex workout pants. Alex pretty clearly wasn’t wearing underwear.

Alex just laughed again. “I wish I had sick tats like yours! But there aren’t any artists in town. Emily’s been talking about getting a gun and teaching herself, but who wants to be the first one for _that_ experiment, right?”

“I think people train themselves by tattooing oranges? She could do that, I’ve got some orange trees on my land,” Juan offered, and thankfully the conversation moved to safer topics after that.

When Alex offered to be Juan’s spotter, Juan managed to keep his eyes to himself. Alex didn’t seem to have any of the same hesitation.

**

The next time Juan ran into Alex was early spring on the long road between Charming Farm and Pelican Town. Juan’s dog, Bobbi, perked up, nostrils flaring as she scented the air. Then she sprinted away from Juan--which was when Juan saw Alex with his own dog on a leash up the road. Bobbi almost bowled Alex’s dog over, gleefully sniffing its backside. But rather than reciprocating Alex’s dog cringed down onto its belly with the whites showing around its miserable eyes.

“Hey, Dusty, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Alex crooned as Juan jogged over. “Just another dog, okay, baby? Dad’s gone, he’s not gonna hurt you, he’s--” Then he caught sight of Juan and his face fell. A second later he smiled and waved but the smile lay strangely on his features, not quite genuine.

Juan bent down, grabbing Bobbi’s collar and pulling her away. She strained at his grip, all seventy pounds of golden retriever body trying to get closer to the other dog.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Juan apologized. Alex’s dog was still pressed down to the ground, panting in terror. “She’s always excitable and doesn’t realize how big she is. I should buy a leash for her.”

“Marnie makes leather goods sometimes,” Alex said, and there was something strange still in his voice, too. “She made Dusty’s collar. She could make you anything you needed, probably.”

“Good idea,” Juan agreed, and then looked at Dusty, still groveling and shaking. He was clearly some sort of pit bull, muscular and blocky. Most of his muzzle was white with age, but that still didn’t hide the visible scars on his face where no fur grew.

“I’ve seen dogs like that before,” Juan remarked. “He was abused, wasn’t he? Or did he used to be in dog fights?”

But at this Alex glared at Juan, joviality suddenly gone from his face. He stood up, gripping the leash with white knuckles.

“How did you find out? Did Haley tell you?”

“What?” Juan replied, baffled by the angry response. “Did Haley tell me what?”

For another second, Alex’s stare stayed hard and furious. Then he bent down toward Dusty again, stroking his hands along the animal’s side.

“Sorry. I thought--” Alex cleared his throat. “I don’t really like to talk about it, but I guess I’d better explain now. If I let you borrow my leash and you keep a tight hold on your dog, we could walk together. It’d be good for Dusty to be around other dogs even if it scares him. He doesn’t....he mostly doesn’t leave his doghouse.”

Juan nodded his assent, wondering how badly he’d just managed to put his foot in his mouth. He accepted the leash and tied it to Bobbi’s collar to hold her in place. She pulled so hard she choked herself every few seconds, which was embarrassing, but then Juan had never needed to leash-train her when she was just on his own land.

Dusty slunk along at Alex’s side, casting fearful glances at Bobbi. She had already moved on from him and was more interested in everything else.

“It was my dad,” Alex admitted after a few minutes of silent walking. “He beat Dusty pretty badly as a puppy. Told me he’d do it to me too if I didn’t behave.”

“I’m--shit, I’m sorry,” Juan apologized. “I shouldn’t have--said what I said.”

“Not your fault. And Dusty _is_ pretty obviously abused, I guess. I just wouldn’t want you to think it was me who did it.”

“Yeah,” Juan agreed, helpless and mortified. What could he say that’d make this less awkward? “I came here because I was running from a bad situation,” he blurted, which was the exact opposite of lightening the mood. Alex turned to look at him, eyes wide and eyebrows up, but Juan’s mouth was a runaway train that couldn’t be stopped now. He spent too much time alone on his farm with nobody but Bobbi to talk to, and he’d never been smooth even before that. “I got involved with--with a kind of gang? I thought they were okay at first. I just wanted friends and family, y’know? And they’re all pretty committed to each other. But then I found out what they were really like. They were into a lot of bad stuff--smuggling weapons, drug dealing, everything.” _Shut up shut up,_ Juan told himself. _You shouldn’t be telling anyone about this, you’re incriminating yourself_ \--but if he just left it at that, it made him sound like a total creep, didn’t it? “I realized after a while that I had to get out,” he forged on, neck sweating so that the brisk wind made him shiver. “They wouldn’t have just let me walk away after that, though, so I....disappeared myself. Nobody knew my grand-dad left me land out here. I didn’t even really know it myself till I was going through my stuff before I ran, trying to figure out what I could leave behind, and I found his will.”

“Wow, that’s rough,” Alex said, voice slightly shaky and his eyes wide. “Is that why you’ve got all those tattoos?”

“Some of ‘em,” Juan nodded. Dusty pushed himself into Alex’s side, almost tripping Alex. When Bobbi remembered his existence and leaned close to lick his face, this time Dusty allowed it, even if he also whined. “But hey, at least they make my pecs look nice, right?”

This got a laugh from Alex, finally. “Yeah, they really do.”

They walked for a while again in silence. Dusty had relaxed some from his initial fright at being surprised, and so Juan felt okay giving Bobbi more length on the lead. She wandered into the margins of the path to dig in the underbrush.

“Hey, uh, I’ve seen you going to the saloon on Friday evenings with everybody else,” Alex started. “But if, y’know, you ever wanna have a quiet dinner in, I could probably convince my gramma to set a fourth place at the table.”

“Oh!” Juan said, like a total dope, and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at himself. “Yeah, that--that’d be nice. I’d like that.”

“I’ll tell them you’re coming tomorrow, then,” Alex informed him, and that was that.

**

Juan went over early with some scones and his home-made jam. Alex’s grandfather was unfriendly, but his grandmother welcomed Juan in--that week and the next, and the one after, until it became the Thursday night routine.

He learned all about gridball teams from Alex, who was apparently a big fan and planning to go pro someday, and Evelyn taught Juan to bake. On rainy days when he couldn’t leave Bobbi alone in the house lest she poop everywhere, Juan brought Bobbi with him. Dusty got used to her eventually, and Juan liked to see them lying together in front of the heating vent, curled up warm against the spring chill.

They never talked about it, but there was never any alcohol in Alex’s household. It made Juan wonder if Alex’s dad had been a drunk as well as an asshole. Juan still went to the saloon on Friday nights, but now he stopped when he hit tipsy. He didn’t miss it as much as he thought he would.

**

One day, a letter showed up in Juan’s mailbox. It had no return address. When Juan tore open the envelope and looked at the typed-up missive inside, it had no signature either. Baffled, Juan seated himself on the edge of his front porch to read it.

 

_Juan,_

_I’m too scared to tell you this to your face, so I’m writing you a letter. It seems safer this way. I can’t really handle rejection. I try to convince myself I’m fine but I don’t think much of myself really._

_So here it is: I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve never felt like this before for anyone, and especially not a guy. I don’t wanna mess things up with you. But I think about kissing you all the time. You have the best smile and I just want to touch it. I think about holding your hand and walking on the beach. I imagine waking up next to you on your farm and having you teach me how to help out with the work. Sappy stuff. Ugh, it’s embarrassing even writing this to you anonymously. I think about sex stuff with you too, but I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable so I won’t write about that._

_Wishing I were yours,_

_A Secret Admirer_

 

By the time Juan had finished reading his hands were sweaty and shaky. He looked out over his vegetable garden and at the fruit trees beyond. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Then another.

Who could have written it? Was it a prank? It didn’t seem like a prank, and nobody in town seemed like the type to play this kind of cruel joke. At least, Juan hoped not.

But if it were real, that left him with the mystery of who could have written it. Was it Emily? He’d spent time talking to her at the bar often enough. She was sweet. And while he’d never imagined himself with a trans woman before, it wasn’t like it was something he minded.

Or maybe it was Haley? Juan didn’t talk to her often, but she’d posted requests for fresh produce so he’d several times brought fruits and vegetables to her house. And as Emily’s sister, maybe Haley had asked Emily about him?

Juan had also sat down to drinks several times with Leah. She was hot, if way too smart for him. She sold her sculptures online for thousands of dollars apiece, and there was no way he could hope to follow her once she started talking politics. _He_ ignored the news as much as possible. 

But the line about never having ‘felt this way for a guy before’ made Juan think maybe the writer was a man. That thought made his belly swoop and his heart race. Sure he’d _thought_ about men before, who hadn’t, and once or twice in the city he’d even gone to gay bars just to experiment. But there was a big difference between sucking a guy off in a public restroom and having a guy be....in love with him? Which was what this letter seemed to imply.

If the writer was a man, that meant it could maybe be Elliott. His wardrobe included a lot of brightly-colored velvet jackets and pale floral ties, which didn’t exactly scream ‘heterosexual’. But Elliott was a writer, wasn’t he? He’d had that reading down at the library last month, and he was pretty good actually. If he was gonna write about his crush, wouldn’t he be more flowery than this?

Which meant maybe it was Shane. He stared at Juan sometimes in the bar. The idea that Shane had written this made Juan uncomfortable, though, because every time he’d tried to talk to Shane the man had been extremely rude and told Juan to fuck off. Juan could take a hint and had left him alone after the second attempt. But then, people had done weirder things when they had crushes, right? Maybe Shane just didn’t know how to talk to someone he was interested in.

Or it could be Clint, Juan talked to him sometimes too. But he seemed to be in love with Emily. And despite the fact that he’d had a crush on her for some three years, apparently, Clint still hadn’t worked up the nerve to talk to her more than a few times. So surely if it were _Clint_ who was interested, he wouldn’t be writing as bluntly like this? But maybe he was different with guys. 

Or it could be someone Juan didn’t expect at all. Several upsetting possibilities occurred to him then, like Pierre. But Juan didn’t want to think about that, because the idea of being a home-wrecker made him feel ill.

To Juan’s own dismay, he found his thoughts kept drifting to a particular person as the author: Alex. These days Alex came over some evenings to walk their dogs together. When Juan could make time, he and Alex were workout buddies at the gym too, and once or twice they’d tossed a gridball back and forth on the beach. Juan _knew_ everybody in town--how could he not, with a population this small--but the only person he was really _close_ to was Alex.

And there had been so many weird remarks from Alex too. Starting with the very first one about Juan’s chest tats.

But then, if this secret admirer was a man, it wouldn’t lead anywhere since Juan was straight. Or, well....he’d only dated women. And it wasn’t like he’d ever slept with men, except for those hookups at gay bars. And all the gay porn he had stashed in a secret folder of his laptop.

He knew he ought to be doing any of the endless work that needed to be done around the farm. He needed to go into the woods to find more kindling and chop more firewood. He needed to sweep the house and scrub the bathroom. There was always more cooking to do and he still needed to visit Marnie to see about getting a new leash--Bobbi had chewed through the first one when Juan had accidentally left it on the floor.

But instead Juan sat on the front porch in the late afternoon sun and thought.

Would he go gay for somebody? The idea made him anxiously stroke the tats on his forearms, remembering what the men he’d associated with in Zuzu City would have said about him dating a man--but then, he’d left that life behind on purpose. He’d figured a small town would be more conservative, but they were a nice bunch out here. He doubted anyone in the Valley would care if he turned out not to be straight. Nobody made rude remarks about Elliott or Emily, after all.

Juan reread the letter till it was too dark to see anymore.

When he woke up in the morning, he got through all the farm work as usual: he mucked out the animal pens, fed the cow and the chickens and the dog, checked to make sure the sprinklers had evenly watered the crops, and then brought a basket out to the fruit trees to see what was ripe. He cooked lunch, then put dinner in the crock pot for later.

Before he sat down to eat, he tore a page out of one of his notebooks and penned off a quick note. That night he took it down to Pierre’s General Store along with the day’s produce and pinned the missive to the community bulletin board. It read simply:

 

_Dear S. A.:_

_Please write again. I want to know more._

_Juan_

 

**

Four days later, another letter with no return address turned up in Juan’s mailbox. He made himself not read it till after he’d made the morning rounds, in case the first one had been a prank. The animals could tell when he was upset. Which meant he’d rather be jittery around them, wondering what the letter said, instead of angry or sad.

When Juan couldn’t take the waiting anymore, he seated himself in the orchard his grandfather had planted decades ago and ripped open the envelope. Inside lay another printed page of text.

 

_Dear Juan,_

_I’m so anxious writing this that I almost can’t make myself use my computer’s speech-to-text program properly. I’ve had to edit so many um’s and ah’s from this transcription as it is. I traced the letters on your address on the outside of the envelope because I don’t want you to know who I am by my handwriting._

_I’m not very experienced with dating. I tried dating a friend of mine a while back. We made it over a year before my friend called it off and told me it wasn’t working because I wasn’t in love. I guess that was true because I didn’t feel then even half of what I feel for you now. The fact that me and my friend are still close even though we broke up is the only thing that gives me any hope in talking to you. Maybe even if you don’t return my feelings then we can still at least be friends afterward?_

_I know you said you haven’t dated much either, but it’s different in the City, isn’t it? For you, not dating much means you’re twenty-seven and you’ve only dated six people. But I’ve only dated one. Only had sex with one. Which means I don’t know what I’m doing! I don’t know what I’m doing in any part of my life but especially not with you._

_I don’t want to seem weak to you, or stupid, or worthless. I want to be as important to you as you are to me. But maybe you already think I’m a coward because I’m writing this anonymously? I hope not._

_I meant this letter to be sexier. I didn’t want to just write about how insecure I am. But I guess this is at least honest._

_Wishing I were yours,_

_A Secret Admirer_

 

This time Juan studied the letter even more closely. He didn’t think he’d told anyone but Alex about how many people he’d dated. But he wasn’t sure, either. There were a few times in his early months here that he’d gotten wasted and stumbled home drunk from the saloon without remembering what he’d said or to whom. He could have told anybody anything those nights.

And this was a small town. That meant that even if Juan had only told Alex, if Alex had subsequently told _anyone,_ the whole town probably knew by now. Everyone talked about everybody else’s business all the time here. Like how Marnie and Lewis thought their relationship was some big secret but everyone knew about it. Or how Abigail was probably not actually Pierre’s biological daughter. The only thing the town didn’t gossip about was Alex’s parents, but even that was probably only because it had happened so long ago that it had ceased to be interesting rather than because of the delicate subject matter.

Then there was the handwriting thing. Did this person think Juan knew their handwriting well enough to identify it on sight? Juan wasn’t sure he’d be able to do more than pick his _own_ handwriting out of a line-up, but....

It occurred to him then that Alex was dyslexic, and badly so. He couldn’t read books very well because most of them were in fonts his brain couldn’t handle. Did dyslexia affect writing as well as reading? Juan didn’t know. But if it did, that might make Alex’s handwriting distinctive.

And Alex had been with Haley a couple years ago, hadn’t he? He’d mentioned that once when Juan had asked him if they were dating since they spent so much time together. Alex had laughed off the question and said they’d already tried.

If nothing else, the ‘I’ve only been with one person and we broke up’ removed some especially upsetting possibilities, like Pierre. Come to think of it, it probably also disqualified Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail too--they seemed to be in some sort of threesome. Juan had caught them making out all together in the graveyard just last week, Sam on Sebastian’s lap and Abigail’s mouth all over his neck. But then, maybe they’d dated in the past and just weren’t formally ‘together’ now. People put all sorts of labels on things, or refused to do so even when it was appropriate. Like Lewis and Marnie. Poor Marnie.

Juan didn’t want to end up like her, strung endlessly along. So he penned another brief note, and that night after dinner he pinned it to the bulletin board before stopping by the saloon. The note read:

 

_Dear S.A.,_

_Please keep writing. I’m interested. I won’t judge, I promise._

_Juan_

 

No less than three people at the bar asked him about the first note, because apparently everyone had seen it. Pam demanded an explanation the most bluntly, wanting to know what that ‘weird shit in the town square’ had been about. Juan stammered through evasions and left early. Pam only got pushier as she got drunker.

That night Juan lay in bed unable to sleep. He was tired, he was always tired after a day of work on the farm. But his thoughts kept turning to the two letters he’d received.

He didn’t know who the ‘Secret Admirer’ was. Maybe not all of the information implied in the letters was true. Maybe some of it was falsified in order to protect the writer’s identity. Which meant it could be nearly anyone--it could be Maru, or Harvey, or even the damned wizard who lived outside of town for all Juan knew.

Juan reached a hand down his underwear and let himself imagine, though, that maybe it was Haley. She was beautiful and demanding. Juan liked that in a woman. And her curves--she was a bigger girl and knew how to dress herself, and her intent seemed to be to make everyone in town stare at her in admiration as much as possible. Juan let himself imagine her pulling his face into her cleavage, or lifting her skirt to bury his face in her lace panties. Mmm. Using memories of his ex-girlfriends, he could almost make himself believe he could smell her now.

But Alex’s body kept intruding on Juan’s fantasies. Alex did a thousand push-ups a day, he said, and Juan respected that level of commitment. In a private moment, though, Alex had admitted that while he wanted to apply to college for a gridball scholarship someday, he also kept in such good shape because he was scared the only thing he had to offer a partner was a good-looking body. Juan could relate. He’d flunked out of high school, too depressed to cope after his mom died and he wound up in the foster system. Nobody had ever dated _him_ because they wanted someone who could talk philosophy over dinner. Alex, meanwhile, hadn’t even been to school, thanks to growing up in such a small town--and guilty as it made Juan feel, Juan kinda liked that about Alex. It meant they didn’t judge each other.

And fuck, Alex had such pert little nipples and tight glutes. Juan wanted to put his mouth on both.

He let the fantasy spool out, not trying to stop it like he sometimes did when he caught himself thinking about men. He knew what Alex smelled like right after a workout. Alex often took of his shirt because he got too hot, which meant the soft tufts of hair under his arms were open to the air. Juan had always kinda liked the smell of other guys. Not rank dude body odor, of course, but that warm body smell of someone who had showered recently and then worked hard. Would Alex smell like that if they had sex?

Juan let himself believe that Alex would. If he fudged some of the details, he could imagine Alex as one of the guys Juan had blown back in the City. The weight of a dick on his tongue, the way he had to keep his lips wet to make it slide.

When Juan came, he wasn’t thinking of Haley anymore.

**

The next day Juan woke feeling guilty and embarrassed. He’d told his secret admirer that he was interested, and he was. But what if it _was_ someone weird like Shane or Clint? Juan just wanted to be wanted. He was lonely on his farm. He hated how much time he spent alone. He was half-crazy from working all day and only getting to see another human being if he trekked the mile out to town. He did it as often as he could, because he needed the money he got from selling his produce as much as he needed the company, but it wasn’t enough. His head got so loud sometimes, and he started thinking about his own thinking and getting lost in the details of nothing. He obsessed over the stupid shit he’d said and done in the past and couldn’t help but think about the City and everything that had happened there. He remembered his mom, and how she was dead and wouldn’t ever get to see him making a good life for himself.

By the time Juan had gotten dressed and pulled the door shut behind him, he’d wound himself up so tight with anxiety over what he’d do if his admirer turned out to be a disappointment that he tripped over the top step leading down from his cabin. He landed hard on one foot before his shoe slithered sideways on the dew-soaked grass and turned at a terrible angle.

For a stunned moment, Juan lay staring up at the dark grey sky, thinking nonsensically about the few stars still visible around the clouds. And then the pain hit. His ankle became a dense throb of bad sensation.

Juan immediately wanted to crawl back into bed and give up on the day, but he couldn’t make the animals suffer for his bullshit.

So he stood. His own weight made a searing jolt shoot up through his leg, but the leg held him, so he limped over to the barn. By the time he’d grabbed the bucket from the hook near the door, Juan’s ankle felt Really Bad. But milking the cow couldn’t wait; once he’d waited till mid-morning to milk her, and she’d been so cranky she’d kicked him in the chest. He was lucky it hadn't broken any ribs. So Juan merely laid his forehead against her warm flank and tried not to cry.

By the time he’d finished milking her, he gave up on not crying and just sniffled angrily as he carefully hauled the full pail to the house. He couldn’t limp without spilling, so he had to put his full weight on both feet. What had been merely painful before quickly graduated into agonizing.

He’d screwed up his whole life in Zuzu City because he’d picked the wrong people to care about, he thought. What was to stop him from doing it again here? What if parts of the letters had been untrue and his secret admirer _was_ someone married, like Demetrius? Would that even stop Juan from sleeping with him? In another six months, maybe not. He was so, so lonely all the time. He loved this place, loved the woods and the land and his animals, but he _hated_ being alone.

By the time Juan had finished feeding the chickens and the dog and had then limped all the way into town to Harvey’s clinic, Juan could feel that his ankle was swelling inside his boot, joint pounding against the tight laces. His thoughts spun over and over how he was going to get all his work done tonight and tomorrow and the day after.

Maru caught sight of Juan in the waiting room and immediately ran to get Harvey. A few minutes later, wincing as Harvey positioned his leg for an X-Ray and afterward proclaimed it a bad sprain, Juan stared bleakly at the wall. At least it wasn’t broken, but a sprain wasn’t much better. He didn’t have the luxury to be injured.

Just as Harvey started strapping the ankle into a brace, however, someone knocked at the door.

“With a patient, just a minute,” Harvey called. But instead of hearing retreating footsteps as Maru went back to the front desk, the door opened up and revealed Alex.

“Maru told me I should wait for you out here, but I didn’t want to,” Alex explained in the face of the disapproving scowl Harvey shot at him.

“Is it all right with you that he--” Harvey started to ask Juan, but Juan just gave Alex a wan smile and waved him in.

Alex shut the door after him and took a seat near the examination table where Juan lay. For a second Alex lifted his hand like he was gonna reach out and touch Juan, but then he changed direction at the last second and shoved both hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Maru had me all freaked out and thinking you were gonna die or something. Said you came in all pale and wobbly like you were gonna faint.” Alex nodded at Juan’s leg, the jeans wedged up around his knee. “But it looks like you’re gonna be fine. It’s not broken, right?” One corner of his soft mouth lifted in a crooked smile.

“Just a sprain,” Harvey told Alex. Juan suppressed a shiver. Now he wasn’t moving around, he felt too cold. Gooseflesh came up over his arms and legs.

Once the brace was in place and Harvey had fetched and adjusted crutches from a back room somewhere, Alex helped Juan stand. And Harvey delivered the aftercare instructions to them both, as if Alex would be around for it to matter.

By the time he had maneuvered out the clinic’s front doors, Juan already hated the crutches. He was so focused on how awkward it would be to get into the chicken coop with them that they’d already turned west toward the farm together before Juan finally realized that Alex intended to walk him home.

The mile between Charming Farm and Pelican Town had often felt like a long distance before when Juan was drunk or tired. But Juan was pretty sure it had never felt _this_ long. He could smell the faint cologne of Alex’s deodorant and hair product whenever the wind blew the air the right way, and the crutches made Juan’s armpits hurt.

About halfway there, Alex broke the silence.

“I hope you’ve got an extra toothbrush for tonight. Otherwise you're gonna have to deal with my killer morning breath tomorrow before I can go home and get my stuff.”

“You what?” Juan blurted. Fuck, his bedroom probably still smelled like jizz, there was unswept mud from his boots all over the floor, and there was only room for one in his bed. Juan didn’t even own a couch, just a pair of hard-backed wooden chairs that went with the rickety old table he’d inherited along with the cabin. He’d meant to get a couch from one of Robin’s furniture catalogs sometime soon, but he hadn’t found the time. It was only Robin’s housewarming gift of a new twin-sized mattress that meant he wasn’t sleeping on the same one Grandpa had died on.

“I’m gonna stay with you,” Alex stated, as if this were a foregone conclusion. “You shouldn’t be doing all your farm work with a sprain like that.”

“It’s fine,” Juan protested. “It’s not like I’ll be walking long distances across my own yard.”

“I’ve seen what you call a yard. There’s damn near half a mile between your front door and the edges of the orchard. And I know for a fact you’ve got apricots and cherries in season right now, with peaches about to drop any week--you brought that big fruit basket over last Thursday, remember?”

Caught out, Juan said nothing. Alex snorted as him for this silent admission of defeat.

“That’s what I thought. So I’m gonna stay with you till you can walk properly again. You have a cell phone, so you can call my grandparents to tell them.”

Juan tried to protest--and kept protesting the last quarter-mile home--but Alex was bullheaded when he wanted to be. When Juan went to pull logs from the wood pile beside the door, Alex punched him in the shoulder and shoved him indoors before fetching the logs himself. Alex tried to make the fire, too, but Juan had to stop him--Alex didn’t know anything about how to stack a fire so it’d actually catch. But once that was done, Alex heated up enough leftovers for both of them in the microwave, and then they sat down to lunch.

Alex didn’t remark upon the small bed, nor the quilt half-hidden below piles of Juan’s spare clothes. The cabin got cold at night, even with a fire in the grate, so it was expedient for Juan to keep his clothes there. But it looked sloppy and juvenile.

“What else needs to be done today?” Alex demanded.

Juan thought about arguing. He thought about refusing to tell Alex. But instead, he just pointed to the wicker basket he used to pick fruit, and then described how to tell which apricots and cherries were ripe and how to check the peaches. Juan himself went to the freezer and packed frozen vegetables along his ankle, icing it as Harvey had directed.

An hour later Alex returned with a basket full of fruit and set them on the counter. Alex would need to take them down to Pierre’s tomorrow or they wouldn’t be fresh enough to sell. Or Juan would have to make jam or pie out of them.

They called Evelyn and George. George said nothing except to tell Alex to come back tomorrow for a change of clothes, but Evelyn was all concern about Juan’s sprain. It was a good five minutes of fussing before she let them off the phone, and Juan would bet anything that when Alex went back to town tomorrow, he’d return to the farm with a bunch of home baking by way of a care package.

Throughout the afternoon, as Juan directed Alex around the farm, Juan tried hard not to think about how they’d sleep that night. He tried not to think about it through dinner. He tried not to think about it has he knelt carefully and dug the spare toothbrush out from under the sink. He tried not to think about it as Alex sealed himself away in the bathroom to shower. Juan tried not to think about it when Alex emerged in his boxer-briefs, which showed off way too much of his thighs, and his cotton undershirt, which showed off his biceps. His nipples were hard through the thin fabric.

Juan tried--and failed--not to think about it as he took his own shower. For safety’s sake he jerked off under the last of the hot water.

He thought about Alex’s body wrapped around his.

Juan was still trying not to think about the sleeping arrangements as he got into bed and shuffled up against the wall--and Alex climbed into the bed right behind him. There was some awkward elbowing and shifting as they figured out how to share the pillows properly, but then Alex’s knees settled right in behind Juan’s, his breath gusting warm against Juan’s nape. Only Alex’s folded arms came between them for a thin pretense of decency.

But the heat of Alex’s body alongside Juan’s quickly suffused the bed. After a few minutes they lay in a cocoon of warmth, buried under the heavy weight of Juan’s clothes.

Juan fell asleep within minutes.

**

He woke several times throughout the night. Every time he tried to roll over, he either flexed his ankle wrong or ran into Alex’s body. Once, Juan got caught up in his own head for what felt like at least an hour--until Alex started to snore very gently, a low rasp in the back of his throat. It was the kind of thing Juan could safely tease Alex about in the morning. He fell back to sleep imagining how he’d phrase it.

He woke again later knowing it was time to get up. For the sake of certainty, he craned his neck up to look at the window, and the purple-grey color of the woods told him he was right. The fullness of his bladder told him he was right too.

But his legs were tangled together in Alex’s, belly pressed along Alex’s side.

For a few moments, Juan allowed himself the luxury of staying there. The skin of Alex’s neck was soft where Juan’s hand rested against it. He could just feel the prickle of Alex’s stubble against the tip of his thumb.

Then both the call of nature and the thought of being kicked by an angry cow had Juan regretfully pulling his legs away and shaking Alex's shoulder. Alex snorted loudly, then rolled over and buried his face in Juan’s chest.

Juan smiled to himself, secretly pleased, but he also shook Alex again. Alex flailed a bit, managing to push down the covers, and then yelped when his body came in contact with the cold air.

“Crap, what the hell is this temp’rature? What--” All at once, Alex seemed to notice where he was. He went silent, blinking into the dark room where the fire had long since gone out. Then Alex subsided back into the mattress with a groan.

“If you had to piss, you should have just climbed over me. It’s way too early to be awake.”

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t own a farm,” Juan replied, and then did climb over Alex as requested. He managed to neatly avoid either pressing his morning wood against Alex again, for which Juan congratulated himself, or jolting his own ankle too badly. Alex just groaned in irritation at all the jostling.

After dressing and pouring himself a quick glass of yesterday’s milk (all he could afford the time to prepare before he attended to the cow herself) Juan limped out of the house. Bobbi bolted out past his legs as he opened the door awkwardly around his crutches.

The weather channel, one of only three channels Stardew Valley got and thus something Juan had taken to watching to fill the silence of his cabin, had told Juan to expect cold rains in late spring. Well it was late spring now, and he and his brace and crutches were already soaked by the time he made it to the barn.

Once he’d sat down at the cow’s side, however, he realized there was no way he could carry the full pail back to the house himself. He sighed, finished the milking, left the full bucket by the door, and then crutched his way over to the chicken coop. When he finished there, having refilled the hens’ feeders, he found Alex standing blearily on the porch. He pointed an accusing finger at Juan.

“You,” he said, with what was probably intended to be a threatening aura. It was made unconvincing by the way he then yawned and his jaw cracked. “You shouldn’t be up and around like this. Get back in the house.”

Juan just gave Alex a Look. “Because you know how to milk a cow?”

Alex looked away, expression turning grumpy and evasive.

“I’ve done it a few times. Everybody out here has. Marnie teaches the kids to do it.”

Juan rolled his eyes. “Well you haven’t been a kid in a long time and you haven’t milked _my_ cow. I doubt she’d like a stranger fumbling around her udders.” Alex groaned, which was his way of conceding defeat. “I’ve already fed the chickens, but you can go to the barn and pick up the milk itself. And you need to fish the eggs out of the coop, too.”

Alex threw his hands up. “Oh just shut up! I’ll get the eggs and milk--and feed the dog and pick up any poop around the yard, okay? Go sit down.”

Juan shrugged around his crutches. “Once it’s light, I can tell you how to recognize which vegetables are ripe and how to pick them. By the time you get back in, I’ll have breakfast ready.”

When Alex returned he too was soaked and in a foul mood. The hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and cereal with fresh milk and strawberries and salmonberries did little to cheer him up.

“Do you seriously get up this early every day?” Alex asked, plaintive and disbelieving. “And go out in all the mud and wet and everything? I ruined my sneakers just getting from the barn to here. _Ruined_ them!”

Juan huffed out a noise of amusement, unable to suppress a grin. “Well yeah. Every damn day. Can’t neglect the animals. And I don’t have enough spare money to let the fruit or vegetables rot by leaving them too long unpicked. I sell everything I can spare at Pierre’s.”

Alex’s lips pursed up. He looked chastened. “Yeah, I--I know. We’ve bought your produce from there, it’s nice to get things that weren’t shipped in from outside the Valley." At this he sighed. "I’m being an asshole. I’m just not used to being up at what-the-hell o’clock in the morning.”

“You went to bed early with me,” Juan protested, laughing a little. He couldn’t really judge, he’d been exactly the same when he’d first moved out here. But his internal clock had adjusted to farm life in the year since. “Stay long enough, you’ll get used to farmer’s hours yourself.”

The words had just slipped out before he could think, and now Juan wanted to bite his tongue off. He wanted to get up and leave the cabin to get away from what he’d said. He wanted to vanish off the face of the earth.

But Alex only groaned again, seeming to completely miss the weirdness of the statement.

**

Evelyn did indeed send Alex back to Charming Farm burdened with baked goods. Fresh bread, cookies, scones, _and_ a few cupcakes. Evelyn tended to bake her feelings, and she’d clearly been upset about receiving the call from the farm yesterday.

Alex also came back wearing clean clothes and hiking boots, with his own toiletries and spare clothes and an umbrella. Which meant he arrived dry and in a much better mood. He went out into the orchards again without complaint, weeded the vegetable garden, and while it quickly became clear he didn’t know much more about cooking than he did about milking cows, he was happy enough to follow orders. And unlike just about anybody else, he didn’t make fun of Juan for his protein shake dessert. Juan made it himself from cream and soy powder and cocoa and honey blended together in a big bowl with a whisk. Alex asked for one himself, in fact, and declared it better than the stuff they sold at the JojaMart up the road. Then Alex helped wash the dishes, which Juan appreciated because standing had started to make his leg hurt.

Another night passed. This time Juan woke up with Alex’s morning wood firm against his ass.

Neither of them talked about it when Juan shook him awake. Alex didn’t even draw attention to it with a ‘no homo’ joke, just arched his hips away and then rolled out of bed.

Another day passed, and Juan caught himself daydreaming of what he could do with the farm if a second person lived here. He could double the size of his garden and buy new types of fruit trees to add to the orchard. He could cut down some of the forest trees for lumber and ask Robin to reinforce and insulate the walls of the cabin so it wouldn’t get so cold. He could buy another cow. Marnie also kept other livestock--Juan didn’t have any use for pigs or ducks, and Marnie already sold their meat and eggs at Pierre’s and Juan knew his could not be of equal quality. But maybe he could buy some angora rabbits off her, or a couple sheep. In the city Juan would have flinched at the idea of learning something ‘girly’ like spinning and knitting. But out here it was different. While he still had his laptop, only three places in town had internet: Pierre’s, the library, and JojaMart’s cafe. So it wasn’t like Juan could stream video out here. He barely got cell reception. Which meant he’d had to find other ways to fill his time. Like watching the weather channel, or the cooking channel, or the weird psychic hotline channel.

Mostly Juan just spent his free time going crazy. Spinning and knitting would be better. Having someone else living on the farm with him would be better. Then he wouldn’t sit in front of the fireplace talking to himself and the dog every night.

And Alex seemed....Juan found himself almost hesitant to think it, but aside from crankiness about the early mornings, Alex seemed _happy_ here. Juan knew, from both observation and Alex’s own report, that Alex was frequently bored and uncertain what to do with his time. There weren’t many jobs available in the town. Pierre and Marnie teamed up to open an ice cream stand every summer, selling home-made ice cream, and Alex worked for them selling the product. But that was only a few months out of the year. The rest of the time he spent doing housework, helping take care of his grandfather, up at the gym maintaining the premises or working out, or out on the back roads jogging. Or obsessively researching gridball, sitting by his computer to let it read out articles on injuries and physical therapy to him.

The only other place to work was JojaMart. Alex had apparently tried working there once, but Morris had fired Alex after a few weeks for reasons he had apparently refused to explain. Shane and some girls from the next town over had been hired in Alex’s place.

Alex didn’t talk about that either, but Juan thought it must have discouraged him a great deal.

On a farm, though--Alex could _do_ the things that needed doing on a farm. He could easily carry heavy things, he wasn’t scared of the animals like Juan had been when he’d started out, and he _liked_ getting sweaty from hard work so long as it didn’t wreck his good clothes or shoes.

Juan moved one of the wood chairs out onto the porch and sat to watch Alex move around the land. They called back and forth to each other sometimes, chattering about nothing very much. Alex brought his pocket radio back on that day’s trip to town, so in the evening they sat side by side at the table and listened to the latest gridball game.

What would happen if Juan asked Alex to stay a little longer? What would happen if he offered to buy a second bed so Alex could come stay here with him more often to help him around the farm?

Juan tried not to think about the fact that he had to jerk off every night before bed so he wouldn’t embarrass himself all over Alex during the night. He tried not to think about the fact that they’d given up on fighting the size of the bed, and after less than a week they just rolled together into the middle of the bed every evening. Juan was already waking up less from having to share space that way.

The next day another unreturnable envelope arrived in the mail. Juan shoved it into his back pocket, hiding it even though Alex was in the barn fetching the milk and thus wasn't around to see. Juan’s ankle was doing better now, much less swollen and painful, but Harvey had advised him to stay off it for at least another few days even with the brace on. He’d only just avoided breaking it, apparently.

Juan took the letter into the bathroom, shut the toilet, and sat down on it to read. He tore open the plain white envelope with shaking fingers.

 

_Dear Juan,_

_You have no idea how bad I want you. I don’t know anything about being with a guy but I want to learn. I want to kiss you till your lips hurt. I don’t even know how to let myself say this, this feels too embarrassing to even write down, but I want to learn how to fuck you. I want to use my hands and my mouth and my everything else to make you come until you can’t anymore._

_But it’s not just sexual. I want to walk your dog when you’re too sick to get out of bed. I want to learn to take care of all the other animals on your farm until they trust me as much as they trust you. I want to plan out seasonal vegetable gardens with you. I want to look at seed catalogs together._

_I want to get my first tattoo with you holding my hand._

_Wishing more than ever that I were yours,_

_A Secret Admirer_

 

Juan stared at the letter. Heat burned his cheeks. His hands stuck to the paper with sweat and wrinkled the edges where he gripped too hard. He’d popped half a chub and gooseflesh rose in a wave over his arms.

It _had_ to be Alex, didn’t it? Juan _wanted_ it to be Alex. He hoped it was Alex.

But it still wasn’t necessarily him. Plenty of people in town had commented on Juan’s tattoos, and there had to be other people than just Alex who wanted their own. Juan really thought the writer was a man, but he couldn’t be certain even of that.

Well, that was that, then. Juan wanted it to be Alex. Which meant that not only could he no longer cling to the pretense of heterosexuality anymore, but that he wanted his _only_ close friend in town.

Juan told himself he had to accept that his admirer might be someone else. He told himself he'd be able to deal with that if it happened.

Folding the letter up small and tucking it into the front pocket of his jeans, Juan left the bathroom still hot-faced and shaky.

**

Another day passed. By the end of it, Juan was able to get around the farm okay in his brace. They let a few more days pass, just in case, but then Alex went home.

The emptiness of the farm rang in Juan’s ears like the echoes of screaming.

He milked the cow. He walked the dog. He picked the fruit from his orchards. He cooked and cleaned. He tried not to think of how much easier and better it had been with Alex here. He tried not to think of how good it had felt to share even his tiny bed with Alex.

At day three of separation, another letter arrived in Juan’s mailbox. Another plain white envelope, the upper left corner conspicuously blank, the address clearly traced from printed text.

Juan forced himself to wait till lunch. When the time arrived he found he couldn’t eat, the anxiety killing his appetite. So he sat to read the letter instead.

 

_Dear Juan,_

_This is the scariest letter I’ve written yet. What if this ruins everything?_

_But I just can’t handle this anymore. I need to know if you want me back._

_If you meant what you said about being interested, meet me Wednesday night at 7pm in the private parlor at the back of the saloon. I’ll be waiting for you there._

_If you’ve changed your mind, leave me a note on the bulletin board._

_Hoping I’ll be yours,_

_A Secret Admirer_

 

Juan set down the letter. He looked at the calendar. Today was Tuesday.

**

He wasn’t sure how he got through the next day. Something was terribly wrong with his lungs and ribcage. No matter how many times he sat down gasping for air, he couldn’t seem to breathe. He looked into the refrigerator, hungry, but all he could manage was milk. Bobbi whined and stared at him in concern, leaning against his legs whenever he let her, clearly upset by his mood.

Juan cleaned the small space of the cabin. He tried not to let himself think about how much he hoped he might be bringing someone home soon. He failed.

Unable to take it anymore, at four in the afternoon he took his crutches and made his way into town. He went to the beach, sat on the pier, and soaked his feet in the ocean. It felt good to have his ankle out of the brace and in the cold water. Not quite as good as icing it, but it’d do.

Juan watched Willy leave his shop and set up his fishing tackle on the pier. Juan had to respect a man who so completely knew what he enjoyed in life. Willy liked fish and fishing so he’d mastered his craft and opened up a shop to make ends meet. Willy always seemed so relaxed, like a man perfectly content with himself.

Juan just tried not to cry or hyperventilate in public. He listened to the waves lapping on the old wood below him. He felt the sun heavy upon his skin as a warm breeze stirred his hair, which was getting long from lack of cutting. He watched the light glittering on the ocean surface. He thought about holding Alex’s hand and watching the moonlight jellies together in a few weeks.

That thought made him both so excited and so anxious that he almost wanted to vomit, so Juan rapidly tried to think of other things. But the problem was, most thoughts led back to Alex at this point. When Juan tried to think if there were any seeds he had forgotten to plant or order from Pierre, Juan’s mind turned to the line in the letter about looking at seed catalogs together, and how badly Juan wanted to do that with Alex. When Juan thought about how much the floor needed a good scrubbing rather than just another sweeping, he imagined buying a bigger bed to fit himself and Alex and the two of them moving it back and forth over the hardwood to get everything clean.

Even their dogs did better together than apart. Dusty had finally relaxed with Bobbi and really seemed to enjoy her company. These days he let her lick his face and sniff his backside with only a brief and reflexive submissive display. Sometimes he even tried to play with her even despite his stiff arthritic legs.

Finally, at quarter to seven when the sun was closer to the horizon, Juan walked back to the town. He shook his shoe out to remove any stray sand, ran his fingers through his hair trying to make it look neater, straightened his shirt, and made it to the saloon only a few minutes early.

Emily and Gus both smiled widely at him as soon as he walked in. Did they know who was waiting for him? They had to, didn’t they?

“Right this way, son,” Gus gestured toward the back hall. Unable to make himself go first down the hall to his doom, Juan waited for Gus to lead the way. Sweat prickled on his palms and forehead. His chest felt like someone had sucked all the air out of it and left behind a vacuum, the pressure of it pulling at his ribs like they were going to cave in. The floor started to feel distant below Juan’s feet.

Then they were at the private parlor. Gus laid a gentle hand on Juan’s back and nodded at the closed door.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes with dinner. Good luck!”

And then Gus was gone, leaving Juan terrified by himself. His hand raised itself and knocked, somehow unwilling to just walk in. The sharp feeling of the surface against his knuckles startled him.

Footsteps moved inside the room. The knob turned--

And there was Alex. He smiled at Juan, ducking his chin, shy and pink-cheeked.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft and quiet.

Juan stared at him, unable to believe this was really happening. And then, to his total mortification, he felt his eyes well up. Right before he covered his face he saw a look of panic come into Alex's features that echoed Juan’s own.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry--are you angry? I’m sorry--” Alex started to apologize, but Juan just grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt and buried his face in Alex’s neck. For a moment Alex stood stiff and uncertain, but then he wrapped his arms around Juan, pulling him close and squeezing his nape. Juan fisted his sweaty, shaking hands in the back of Alex’s shirt, terrified that somehow otherwise Alex might leave.

“I was scared it was gonna be someone else in here,” Juan sighed against Alex’s collarbone. “I really wanted it to be you.”

Alex let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, I really wanted it to be me, too. Wait, that doesn’t even make sense, I mean--I was worried you wanted it to be someone else in here.”

This wasn’t really funny, but Juan laughed because he was so relieved. Now that the waiting and worrying were over he felt watery and weak.

“Can we sit down?” he asked after a few moments of just standing together. Alex nodded against his ear before moving away enough to pull a chair out for Juan. Juan sat gratefully in it as Alex pulled the other chair around the table to sit alongside him. For an awkward moment, Alex lifted a hand and reached it about halfway between them, then pulled it back, then reached it out again, before Juan realized what he wanted and laced his fingers through Alex’s. At this Alex sighed, leaning his shoulder against Juan’s.

“Maybe this is dumb, but it feels really good to just hold your hand,” Alex admitted after a pause. Juan nodded his agreement.

“I really was scared it was gonna be someone else.”

Alex sighed. “I should have said something earlier. Or you should have said something, I thought for sure you'd figure out it was me from the letters. But it’s easy to say that now we’re both here and it’s okay, y’know? This is such a small town that it’s hard to avoid anyone, and I couldn’t deal with it if you were....disappointed to find out it was me.”

Juan leaned away so he could look at Alex, who looked back with wide eyes. “Why would you think I’d be disappointed?”

Alex looked away. “I’m--I mean--” He swallowed, then let out a gusty sigh. “Well I’m a guy, for starters. I wasn’t sure if you--” he cleared his throat. “But really, though, I’ve talked a big game about going away to college on a gridball scholarship for a long time now. And honestly? It’s probably never gonna happen. I’m scared to even apply for tryouts because I’d be crushed if they turned me down. And you’re--well, nevermind.”

Curiosity piqued, Juan punched Alex--gently--on the shoulder. “No, c’mon, tell me. I’m what?”

Alex cleared his throat again, looking away. He pinked up again.

“Well I mean-- _you’re_ here. If I got a scholarship somewhere, I’d have to leave, right?”

Juan felt his own face heat up in response. “I’d support you if you did wanna go. But if you wanna stay you could even--” And then Juan realized what his tongue was about to do and shut himself up.

This time Alex elbowed him, grinning. “C’mon, spit it out.” Juan just shook his head, but Alex rolled his eyes and squeezed hard on Juan’s hand. “Aww, seriously, Juan! I sent you embarrassing love letters in the mail. I complimented your tits pretty much as soon as I saw you, like a total creep. You cannot be more embarrassing than I’ve been.” He huffed a little breath out. “Sorry about that, by the way. I just--when we first met I felt instantly drawn to you. It was confusing. I kept telling myself, ‘You can’t have these kinds of feelings for another guy.’ But I did. I do, I mean. My heart was telling me something else than what my brain wanted to hear.”

At this Juan couldn’t help but laugh a little, relieved and flattered and scared all at once. “It’s fine. I was the same. And I, uh. I liked it?”

Alex snorted. “I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to say this to each other. We’ve been dopey for each other the whole time, haven’t we?”

“Yeah,” Juan admitted, to both himself and Alex. “And fine, I’ll tell you what I was gonna say, but you’re not allowed to judge me, okay?”

“Okay,” Alex agreed, still smiling.

“Well I was just….I was thinking….” Juan felt his palm get unpleasantly damp against Alex’s, which only made this more difficult. “I was thinking if you wanted stay here in the Valley rather than going to college you could....stay with me. On the farm. If you wanted. I mean, not that I want to take you away from your family, I just--”

Alex kissed him. It wasn’t a fancy kiss, just the press of their closed mouths together for several seconds. But it was soft, and real, and that was enough. Juan could smell mint on Alex’s breath, which meant he’d probably brushed his teeth before coming, and could feel the prickle of evening stubble on Alex’s chin.

Alex pulled back just enough to talk. “I’d love that,” he replied in the small space between their faces. “Thinking about working the farm with you is the first time in years I haven’t felt like a failure.”

"Me too," Juan admitted. And this time, Juan kissed Alex.


End file.
